Shattered
by NCCJFAN
Summary: POST-INTRUDED. Jordan finds her peace of mind shattered as she realizes just how close to being a victim she was. And Woody finds himself in a difficult position trying to be both a detective and her protector.
1. After the Robbery

_Where was she_? This thought kept flickering through Woody's mind off and on for two weeks. Every time he would call in a homicide and request her, someone else would show up. Nigel. Bug. Sydney. Occasionally, even Garrett. But not her. Not Jordan. As a matter of fact, thinking back over the last several weeks, maybe even a month or longer, he hadn't seen her since he had returned her mother's locket to her.

The one he had recovered from the pawn shop. The one the intruder took from her apartment. The man that Jordan had been convinced knew something about her mother's murder.

Of course, that theory had been debunked completely. There had been seventeen robberies near her apartment. It was only a mere coincidence that this burglar broke into her home and took the one piece of jewelry that meant everything to her – her mother's locket. The locket that held a picture of Jordan as a baby.

He remembered her gratitude when he returned it to her. She had hugged him like she never wanted to let him go, thanking him over and over again. The expression on her face was more than worth the hours and days of frustration he had spent going from pawn shop to pawn shop to find the trinket.

What was even better was that after he returned it, she had invited him to stay for a while – with her, in her apartment. He couldn't then. He was on call. But he had wanted to. He had felt the wall between them ease down just a bit. He had softly kissed the back of her head and told her that they needed to take it slowly. She agreed. They had just begun to talk when his cell phone rang and he was called out. The DA, Rene Walcott, and his chief needed to see him.

He had driven back to his office with some trepidation. But it was nothing major. There was some training classes being offered in Washington for police – how to deal with possible terrorist suspects and the ilk. They had wanted him and Eddie and a few other detectives to take the classes. He'd be gone for a few weeks. He had agreed, of course. He had little choice.

Knowing how Jordan thought, and especially since their last conversation, Woody went back to her office and explained the situation. He would be gone about three weeks. She had smiled and hugged him again. "I'll drive you to Logan," she said.

And the next day, she did. She picked him up at his apartment and drove him to the airport. He had handed her his apartment key. "Could you get my mail and water my plants?" he had asked.

"Take care of your plants? Wow....you must really trust me," she had said, knowing he knew the inside joke between herself and her dad about her inability to make a houseplant flourish.

"I do, Jordan. I do," he replied. "But take care of yourself most of all, okay?"

His plane number came over the intercom. It was ready to board. He had hugged her close and to his amazement, she had let his lips brush hers...with a ripeness and softness he had nearly forgotten. "Jordan?" he had said...the question in his voice and his eyes.

"Be careful with yourself, Woody," she had whispered, hugging him tightly one last time before he had to board. She had completely thrown him off-guard.

And now he couldn't find her.

His head kept telling him not to worry. She was a grown woman.

His gut kept telling him she may have run again.

And his heart kept telling him to find her....fast.

He wasn't sure which one he should listen to, but right now he was going with his gut. He had called in another homicide and requested her. Instead, it was Garret that was getting out of the morgue van. And his gut kept telling him to ask Garret about her just as soon as the field exam was over.

"Where's Jordan?" he had asked, when the crime scene was finally cleared and the body loaded on the van.

"I've given her some time off," Garret replied, with an edge to his voice the detective quickly picked up.

"Is something wrong with her, Garret?"

"You might say. I have to get back, but could you meet me for lunch? There are some things you need to know about, given your history with her."

Woody nodded. "Noon at the diner?"

"That'll be fine,"

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Woody said, as he slid into his seat at the diner across from Garret. "Got tied up in a meeting."

"That's okay." The waitress took their order and the men settled down to talk.

"What's up with Jo?" Woody asked. His heart and gut had chased each other around in circles all morning.

"I gave her a couple of weeks off, starting this past weekend. She had the vacation time, God knows. But she needed some time to get over what happened at her apartment."

"The robbery? I thought we had that all cleared up before I left."

"Well, sort of. Jordan went to see Stiles before you left, and there was a break through. See, Jordan is the same age as her mother was when Emily was murdered. I think that deep down inside, Jordan thought that her fate would be the same as her mother's – unfaithfulness, possible insanity, and then death. Stiles convinced her that she was not her mother and she was capable of a solid relationship and taking care of herself. She wasn't predestined to be a victim."

Woody nodded. Some of this he and Jordan had discussed at her apartment right before he left for his training.

"But what she didn't tell you, probably, is what went on at her apartment the night of the robbery – when she walked in on the robber."

"She told me they fought – that she scared him off and he cut her hand with the knife."

Garret nodded. "Did she also tell you she was almost raped?"

Woody drew in a sharp breath and his face went white. "No...."

"Yeah. The robber made her disrobe. That was when she began to fight him. If she hadn't..."

Woody swallowed hard. Part of him, the cop part, knew exactly what this type of sexual assault was – it was a power control issue with the perp for the victim. It kept perp in control over the victim. The fact that Jordan had upset this control with the robber signaled her strength over the perp and her situation. She wasn't a victim, like her mother.

Unfortunately, for most women, even if they "win," it still shatters they psyche....their inner safety net, their mental well-being. It shows them just how vulnerable they can be. And that feeling is hard to shake.

The male part of him...the man ....would just about bet Jordan was feeling this way...vulnerable....despite of her best efforts to hide it. No wonder she had wanted him to stay with her at her apartment for a while. No wonder she had clung to him just a little longer at the airport.

But she hadn't said a word. Just kissed him, smiled at him, and sent him on his way.

"I thought you should know, as you work with Jordan nearly as much as the morgue staff does," continued Garret.

"Where is she now?" Woody asked.

"I'm not sure. I think she went to Maryland to see some old friends. She'll be back on Monday.

Woody nodded. That was a week away. It was good she had taken some time for herself. Maybe when she got back she would feel like talking.

Maybe, when she got back, she wouldn't feel like a victim any longer.


	2. Go to Sleep Jordan

**Disclaimer -- I forgot it on Chapter One. Anyway, I don't own anything with CJ. But oh, the fun I could have if I did. **

**Chapter Two**

It was late when Woody got the call. It was a homicide in the alley behind Routh's, an upscale dinner club in downtown Boston, near the precinct. He made a cursory examination of the scene and phoned the morgue. He simply requested the ME on call – whoever it was.

About fifteen minutes later, the morgue van pulled up and behind it an SUV. He noticed some morgue workers got out of the van, but what caught his attention was who got out of the SUV.

It was Jordan. She was back. She carefully stepped over the yellow tape that surrounded the perimeter of the crime scene.

"Hey, Jordan," Woody said quietly. "Glad to see you're back. Have a good trip?" he asked, all the while trying to get a feel for how she was...did she have her bearings back...did she still feel like a victim?

"Woody!" Jordan said, getting up from beside the victim to give him a quick hug. "I did have a good trip. How did the training go?"

"It went well," he said, trying to continue the conversation just a bit longer. The victim could wait. He wasn't going anywhere, but Jordan was concentrating on her work – taking the liver temperature, checking for lividity. She asked a few more questions about the crime scene and times before giving the okay for the men to load the body in the van and take it back to the morgue.

To Woody's relief, she didn't follow behind immediately in her SUV. She lingered at the scene, checking a few more things out, asking questions. Eventually, one by one, the other police left and it was only Woody and Jordan on the scene. It was then, under the lights of the parking lot, that Woody noticed how tired she looked...the dark circles under eyes and her wan face belied the fact that she had just been on vacation. She hadn't gotten any better. Woody knew that the intruder and what he did...and almost did....to her was still on her mind.

"You okay, Jo?" he asked, when they were finally alone.

"Yeah. Just fine. Maybe a little tired from vacation."

"Garret said you went to Maryland to see friends?"

"Uh-huh." If the truth was really known, she hadn't made it much farther than the Massachusetts's state line. She hadn't felt like going any further. She hadn't wanted to. She had found a hotel and stayed there for the better part of two weeks, not venturing outside too often. Just resting. Or trying to.

"Did you have fun?"

She nodded and shivered. She had a sweater on, but no coat. Woody pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her. "You've got to remember your coat, Jo," he began to scold, when he saw her eyes. They had a hollow, haunted look. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was hold her and just reassure her that everything, _everything_, was going to be all right. His hands lingered on her arms for just a second before he pulled her to him. And to his great surprise...

She let him.

In the past she had always pulled away after a second or two. But this time, she let him, seemingly content to be there for as long as he wanted to hold her. He tightened his hold on her...all he could think about was what had happened to her...how she must feel.

And what he needed to do to protect her.

"Jordan?" he asked, trying his hardest to get a read on where she was emotionally, and if it was time to let her know he knew everything, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," her muffled voice came from his shoulder. "I guess...well...I guess the robbery upset me more than I thought it did. I don't feel safe anywhere anymore, Woody. I'm having a hard time sleeping at night...wherever I am. Especially at my apartment. I got back two days ago and I haven't slept much since before I left for vacation. And I haven't slept since I got back. I've tried sleeping at the morgue....but it doesn't help. I'm just so tired..."

_And scared_, thought Woody, without adding it. She would never admit she was scared. Not Jordan. He noticed she was still trembling in his arms, despite the coat and the heat from his own body. He held her tighter until she stopped. "Will you be okay to drive back to the morgue?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Okay, here's what I want you to do. Go back to work. Finish whatever it is that you absolutely need to do – no more. And then wait for me. Do you understand?" He tilted her chin up so she was looking in his eyes. Again, she nodded.

"Good. I'll see you in just a few minutes." He walked her over to her vehicle and helped her in. He watched her as she drove off into the night. His first instinct had been to take her away somewhere. His testosterone level more than doubled when he saw how fragile she looked. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away somewhere that she would feel safe, so she could rest and regain her normal composure....to go back to being her normal self. A very basic, caveman-like instinct, he knew. If she would have had the least inkling of what he had thought, she would have laughed in his face. Jordan Cavanaugh did not need to be taken care of. She didn't like to be taken care of. But he had never seen her this fragile...not even after all they had been through together. This burglar, this intruder, had stolen more than her mother's locket. He had stolen Jordan's peace of mind...shattered her confidence....violated her space.

And just as he did with her locket, he had to get it back for her....he just wasn't quite sure where to find it. But he had an idea where to start.

* * *

Jordan wearily pulled off her face shield and snapped off her gloves. It had been a grueling two hours – whether it was just the length of the autopsy or her state of mind, she wasn't sure. She filled in the last part of her reports and turned to leave the room when she saw Woody propped up against the door frame. "Finished?" he asked.

She nodded. "Finally."

He walked over to her as she was pulling off her scrubs and putting them in the haz basket. "What are you going to do now?" he gently inquired.

"I guess go back to my apartment and try to sleep," she replied.

He shook his head. "You know you're not going to rest there, Jo."

"I don't know, Woody. I'm so tired now I could sleep standing up."

"Then let me take you home. I'll check all the windows and the door for you...make sure it's all safe so you can rest."

She hated to inconvenience him. She knew he was as tired as she was. But it would make her feel better. Perhaps she would be able to sleep then. "Do you mind? I'd really appreciate it."

"Of course, I don't mind."

She was quiet on the way back to her apartment. They rode the elevator up to her door and she unlocked it. Woody went in and checked the windows and the new deadbolt on her door. "Everything seems to be okay, Jordan."

"I know. I'm thinking about having an alarm system installed after the first of the year."

That comment startled Woody. Jordan would have to be rattled in order to even consider that. And could she wait three more months to have it installed? Could she mentally make it that long? He didn't think so. By the looks of her, he was wondering how much sleep she would get tonight.

"Get your things," he finally said.

"What?"

"Get your things...nightgown, robe, toothbrush, makeup, clothes for work tomorrow...whatever. Pack a bag. You're coming home with me."

"Woody, this really isn't necess..."

"Yes, it is," he replied, cutting her off. He gently ran a hand down her arm. "You're not resting. At least at my place you'll know you'll be safe. You can sleep. I'll get you up in the morning. You can buy me a sissy coffee and we'll have breakfast together." He grinned at her, trying to get her to lighten up for a minute.

But if he thought he was in for an uphill battle with Jordan, he was wrong. She quickly went into her bedroom, threw some things in a duffle bag and was ready within five minutes – testimony to just how anxious she was.

When they arrived at Woody's building, he helped her out of the car and into his apartment. She put the duffle bag on his couch and turned to face him, her hands still tucked into her jacket pockets. "Thanks, Woody. I really appreciate it. You'll never know how much."

He caught her up in a gentle hug. "It's okay. You'd do the same for me."

Jordan quietly chuckled. "I can't see you being this upset over a robber."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he knew it wasn't just the robbery that had her upset, but realized that when and _if_ Jordan decided to tell him about what else the robber attempted, she would have to do it in her own time and in her own terms. Until then, all he could do was be there for her. "Get ready for bed, Jo. It's late, and we both have an early day tomorrow."

She used the bathroom first and got ready for bed. He followed suit and found her on the couch when he got out. "I can take the couch, Jordan," he said.

"I don't think so, Farm Boy. You're over six foot. The couch isn't that long. This is one area where shortness is an asset. I've got the couch." And she settled down to sleep. Woody got in his bed and the apartment went quiet for the night. Until much later, closer to morning, when he began to hear her stirring around on the sofa, in the middle of a nightmare. She was asleep, but wasn't resting well. Gingerly, he shook her until she came out of it.

Jordan woke up with her heart pounding and sweat running down her face. In her dream, she didn't get away from her intruder. He was bent over her with the knife....She looked into Woody's blue eyes, trying to get her bearings. She sat up, swung her legs over the side of the couch, and hid her face in her hands. She needed to tell him why she was reacting this way...not just to a robbery. _He must think I am so weak..._she thought, trying to pull herself together.

"Jordan?" he asked. It was a request...for information....was she okay?

"I'm sorry," she said. "Sorry I woke you up...like I said, this robbery thing has kind of taken its toll on me."

"Have you talked to Dr. Stiles?"

"Yeah. A couple of times. We're working on it, honestly. Hard. It's just going to take some time."

Woody eased down on the couch beside her. He didn't know exactly how she felt, because he had never been through any ordeal remotely close to this. But he did recognize that Jordan felt violated on several levels. The detective in him wanted to step up the investigation and find this creep. The man in him wanted to hold her and reassure that nothing like this would ever happen to her again. Not on his watch. Not as long as she was with him. Just as gently as he woke her, he pulled her to him again, holding her until her heart stopped pounding, until she calmed down.

Rubbing her back in soft circles, he asked, "Jo, how long has it been since you've gotten a whole night's sleep?"

He felt her sigh and pull away to look her in the face. "Since the night before the...robbery."

"That's been almost two months ago."

"I know."

Determinedly, he stood up, with her still in his arms. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to my bed. You're sleeping with me. At least that way you'll know you're safe and no one is going to hurt you."

"Woody...no. I can deal. Please. Sleeping on the couch is okay..." She got no further as he unceremoniously put her on his bed and tucked the covers in around her. He turned out the lights and got in on the other side. "Woody," she said again.

"Go to sleep, Jordan," was all he said, as he drew her to him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Just go to sleep."


	3. I Just Need Time

**Chapter Three**

And she did. She slept and slept and slept. When Woody woke up to turn his alarm clock off the next morning, she didn't even flick an eyelid. He grinned down at her. At sometime during the night, she had rolled over and tucked her head on his chest. He had evidently kept his arms around her. He gently eased his body out from under hers and let her sleep.

She showed no sign of waking, even after he had ran the shower, made coffee, and gotten dressed. He picked up his cell phone and called Garret and explained what happened. "She's still sleeping. I think I need to let her sleep," he said. "She's so tired."

Garret grunted on the other end of the phone. "Yeah. I agree. And good for you....you got her to sleep. I'm not going to ask how, I don't think I want to know. But let her sleep. She can come in later, or take the day off."

Woody left her a note. He stopped by later at lunch to find her showering. "You should have woken me up," she said, stepping from his room after she had dressed.

"And interrupt the first real sleep you've had in weeks? I don't think so. Garret said it was fine. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better, thanks." And she looked better. The circles under her eyes weren't quite so bad. "But to sleep this long...I can't remember when I've done this....I normally am an early riser," she continued, looking a little sheepish.

"I know, Jordan. Don't worry about it. And if I can help any pretty lady sleep by holding her all night, I don't mind. Really," he said grinning at her, trying to get her to laugh.

Jordan's cheeks went pink. _I need to tell him...I really do_, she thought, but her stomach turned queasy at the suggestion. It was still too personal....and for some reason, she still felt ashamed, even though it wasn't her fault, and she knew that.

She knew it. And that had been reinforced by Dr. Stiles and Garret. She had fought back. She had lived...survived. She had won. But at what price? The man haunted her dreams at night and her thoughts during the day. Dr. Stiles said it would get better with time, but he couldn't tell her how long. It was different for each person. The intruder was still out there, somewhere. Her life, however dull it might seem to some, was shattered.

And she couldn't put it back together. At least not just yet. Not until he was caught. Not until she had some kind of closure. She had hoped the return of the locket would be that. It wasn't. She felt she wouldn't have closure until she could stay at her apartment by herself again without feeling like she was losing her mind. Until she could sleep the whole night through without waking up from that same dream with her heart pounding, drenched with sweat.

"I guess I need to go to work," she finally said.

"Garret said you could have the day off."

"No. I feel better when I'm working."

Woody looked at her sharply. She probably felt better when she wasn't alone. Hell, he felt better when she wasn't alone. "I'll drive you," he said.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Jordan poked her head in Garret's office. "I just wanted to say thanks," she said.

Garret motioned for her to come in. "For what?"

"Letting me sleep in this morning. I had no idea I was so tired."

"You're still having trouble sleeping Jordan. That's not good. Have you told Dr. Stiles? He could give you something."

"No. I mean yes. Yes, I have told him, but no, I don't want any prescription sleeping pills," she shuddered, remembering her accidental overdose while she was in residency.

"Are you sleeping here again tonight?"

"I don't know yet. I have some hours I have to make up. I'm just sort of playing it by ear."

"Look, Jordan. You know I don't mind. And I know you don't want to stay at Max's with him not being home, either. But we've got to get you somewhere that you can at least get some quality sleep."

"I know, I know. And I will. Just give me time. Please. That's all I need."

"And for the perp to get caught."

"That most of all." And with that Jordan went back to office to follow up on her paperwork. She was deep in the middle of it when her cell phone rang, startling her out of her concentration. "Cavanaugh," she said absent-mindedly into the receiver.

"Hey...how are you doing?" It was Woody.

"Fine. Digging out from all this paperwork. How about you?"

"Feel like dinner?"

"Well, since slept through breakfast and lunch, yeah."

"Can you meet me downstairs in five minutes?"

"Sure."

She met him downstairs and they walked across the street to the diner to eat supper. She still felt a little awkward around him....the man had held her all night, the first time she had slept in his bed and she had been like a frightened little girl. If there was going to be a first time for them together in his bed, that was not how she envisioned it, nor was it the way she wanted him to remember it.

But he would never know how grateful she was. How much she appreciated his understanding. There simply wasn't the right words to convey how safe he made her finally feel. Nervously, she smiled at him. "What do you feel like?" she asked, looking over the menu.

"Hmmmmm....probably the baked chicken."

The waitress took their order and Woody settled back in his side of the booth to talk to her. Jordan needed to open up to him...that way she wouldn't have to keep explaining herself....She just needed to know he was there for her. At all levels. But she was quiet while they ate, discussing cases and the body that was behind Routh's. It was finally time for him to walk her back to her office. "How late are you going to work?" he asked.

"Just a couple of more hours. Just to make up for this morning."

He followed her into her office. "Mind if I wait on you?"

"You don't have to, Woody. I know you're tired and want to go home. I can't imagine you rested very much last night with me...." Her cheeks began to turn pink again.

"No, I did. Believe me, I did. I was thinking that you may want to stay with me again tonight?"

"I can't Woody. It's not right. I need to be able to stay by myself."

"And do what? Not sleep until this guy is caught? That could be months." _Or never_, he thought.

"I'll be okay."

Woody closed the door to her office and locked it. Now. Now was the time to let her know that he knew _everything_, so she would quit trying to be so strong....so that she could come home with him with a clear conscious....knowing that he realized what had happened.

She heard the lock snib close in the door. She raised an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. He sat down on her couch and drew her down with him.

"I know, Jo," he said quietly.

She looked into his eyes before she realized exactly what he was saying. She leaned forward and put both hands over her face. "Who told you?"

"Garret did. He thought I should know."

"He had no right to...I was going to tell you....I just didn't know how...or when."

He pulled her hands away from her face and held them in his own. "Don't blame Garret. He did the right thing. I needed to know."

"Woody...it's just hard to process. I know nothing happened. But it could have. And in my dreams, it does. Somehow I should have known. When you took me home, and my door was open, I should have known. I should have never gone in there."

"And if I hadn't been fussing about not getting a good night kiss, you may have had more presence of mind to think clearly."

"It's not your fault, Woody."

"And it's not yours, either. Quit blaming yourself."

Jordan looked up at him, startled. He had taken her completely off guard again. "How do you know what I feel...." It wasn't an accusation. It was a statement."

"I worked the victims unit before I became a homicide detective, remember?"

Jordan nodded. She remembered now, but she had forgotten. Ever since Woody had been a prominent figure in her life, he had been a homicide detective. "So you sort of know how I feel," she said, swallowing hard.

"Yeah, I do. So get your things together. You're coming home with me."

"I can't keep doing this to you."

"And you won't. You'll be able to stay by yourself soon. Just not tonight."

"I feel horrible."

"Why? Because you're human? Because you need someone to look after you for a change?"

She nodded.

"Get over yourself, Jordan. Who knows? I may need you to do the same for me one day."


	4. You Can't Bury the Past Forever

**Chapter Four**

And so she did...get over herself. She continued to work and try to put the intruder behind her...tried not to dwell on the past and live in the present.

And it worked – somewhat.

She didn't spend anymore nights at Woody's apartment or the morgue. She would work at the morgue and then go work at the Pogue. She'd work until she was dead on her feet so that when she went home, she'd go straight to sleep and not have time to lay awake and fear that the robber would come back to finish what he had started.

And most of the time she was successful. The robbery began to fade away in her memory and in everyone else's. She could put it behind her, until some nights when the intruder invaded her dreams and finished what he had started. It was the same dream she had dreamed at Woody's apartment. And she'd wake up much the same way....sweating, her heart pounding.

Except this time, she didn't feel she had anyone to call on to protect her...after all, it was only a dream. You can't handcuff, jail, or shoot a dream. So she just kept it to herself, figuring in time, these too, would fade away.

But Woody knew what she was doing. He'd go to the Pogue most nights that he knew she was there and have a beer near closing time. Then he'd walk her out to her car. He knew she was working herself to the point of exhaustion and then going home. He also knew she wasn't really dealing with her fears...just working around them. So one Friday night, after she closed and he was helping her clean up, he slid two quarters in the jukebox and held out his hand. "Dance?" he asked.

She looked at him for a beat and put her hand in his. He had picked a slow song and held her close as he moved her around the dance floor. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine....what makes you think otherwise?"

"You just seem kind of preoccupied, that's all."

"I'm just busy...Peter's left and so has Devan. So it's just Nigel, Bug, and I to cover all the morgue work."

Woody nodded. He knew that. "But what about your sessions with Dr. Stiles about the intruder, Jordan?"

"It's in the past, Woody."

"You mean you're working yourself to death for no reason?"

Jordan sighed. The man was far too perceptive for her own good. "It helps me sleep at night."

"Do you still have those dreams?"

"Once in a while," she replied quietly.

"Why haven't you called me?"

"Because they happen in the early hours of the morning...it's too late to call then. You're sleep."

"I'd get up for you, Jordan. I mean it. You need to call me." He couldn't stand the thought of her being alone and frightened in her apartment, thinking she had no one to call.

"I can't wake you up then...not at three or four in the morning. You have to work the next day..."

"And so do you."

"I can deal with this, Woody."

He knew she could. Somehow, she would, by herself, as usual. But she didn't have to. He didn't want her to. As the song ended, he stopped and held her hand tightly in his. "The next time it happens, you call me. Do you hear? I don't give a damn what time it is....call me." He made her promise and then he helped her out to her car and watched her drive away in the moonlight. He slowly walked back to his own vehicle. He knew what it was like to be alone in the world....no one really to talk to about your troubles. At least no one that really understood. He had known that empty feeling since he was sixteen. He didn't want Jordan to know it. Her mother was dead and her father was who knows where, but he wanted her to know that he was there for her.

He had been patient with her for the last three years...knowing she was still trying to adjust to her mother's death...then James....then Max leaving. And she had been doing well...up until the robbery. Until the intruder invaded her life. Now she was back to feeling insecure....feeling violated...feeling alone. As he got in his car and drove away to his apartment, he realized that somehow, he had to make her feel that she could call on him, depend on him...

That he realized how she felt more than she knew. He had been there. He dealt with the hell almost everyday. He sighed. As much as he had avoided telling her the past several years, tried everyway he knew to get around it, he was going to have to give her the truth about the his past...and exactly how painful it was. That way she would know that he did truly understand what it was like to have everything you hold dear, love with all your heart, shattered into such small pieces they can't be put together again. He pulled into his parking slot at his apartment and leaned his head on the steering wheel.

He had never told anyone in Boston about his past in Wisconsin. They knew he had a brother. They knew he had left Kewaunne for better job opportunities with the Boston PD. That's all they knew. That's all he wanted them to know. He had wanted to put his past behind him...all the pain...the world of hurt....not to forget them in his mind, but just to be somewhere where people didn't recognize him as Woody Hoyt – the orphan...the abused child...the fat kid that stuttered....the rejected prom date...the man not good enough to marry Annie.

But if he wanted Jordan, he was going to have to tell her. To let her know why he identified with her so strongly...why he could bear her pain as well as his. He had dealt with it longer....and even on a more extreme level than she had. In order to make her feel comfortable in coming to him with her hurts, she was going to have to know just how hurt he was.

He sighed as he climbed out of his car and went upstairs. Getting through this wasn't going to be easy. But you can't bury the past forever...not when the future depends on it.


	5. Picnic in the Park

**Chapter Five**

When to do it was the question....as the days clicked by. He didn't know. He had thought about taking her out to dinner...the only problem was that Jordan needed to be moving when she was talking. And he wanted her to tell him about the dream. Telling someone about it might banish it. It was early spring, and Boston was having a few good days. The weather was warming. The trees were almost budding. Spring. A time of renewal. _A good time to get all this out in the open and see what happens,_ he thought.

One Saturday, he awoke to bright sunshine and warming temperatures. The morning may be chilly, but the afternoon would be great. Without giving himself time to have a second thought, he picked up his phone and hit her number on speed dial. Her slightly husky voice let him know he had woken her up.

Hello?" she said over the receiver.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't."

"You're a bad liar, Jordan."

She chuckled. "Okay, you woke me up. But I didn't get in from the Pogue last night until two."

"Are you tired?"

"No more than usual."

"Feel like a picnic this afternoon?"

Jordan was instantly awake. A picnic. She hadn't been on a picnic....in who knew when. "Yes....it would be nice."

"Great. I'll pick you up at one, we'll go to the big park out in the country....Freedom Park. Can you get someone to cover for you tonight at the bar?"

"I don't have to work tonight, as a matter of fact."

"Good. I'll see you at one. I'll get the picnic lunch, you don't worry about anything." He couldn't have planned it any better. They'd have all afternoon – no hurry to get back for anything. All afternoon to talk. All afternoon to make her understand.

At one, he found himself in front of her red door. She answered it a few seconds after he knocked. "Ready to go?" he asked, looking her over. She looked great...of course to Woody, she always looked great, whether she was in scrubs or evening wear. Today she had on black jeans and a red t-shirt. Nothing fancy. Just great picnic clothes. She grabbed a jacket on the way out.

They made small talk on the way to the park...the weather...the BoSox...the morgue, their cases. Woody parked the car and grabbed a Frisbee from the trunk. "Feel up to it?" he had asked.

"You don't know what you're in for," she replied. After a few throws and a great deal of chasing the plastic disk around, she sprawled out, exhausted, against a tree. Sensing this would be the best chance he had, Woody grabbed the picnic basket from the car and spread it out. He had packed a good bottle of wine....knowing it may help her loosen her tongue and him to stay relaxed. A little food and a glass or two later, Jordan found herself very mellow, with her head leaning on his shoulder. Gently rubbing one of her hands, Woody took a deep breath and said. "So...Jordan. Tell me about the dream that keeps you awake."

He felt her shoulders stiffen just a bit as she sat up and turned to look at him. "My dream? Why do you want to know?"

"Because talking about it sometimes makes it go away....I'd like to see if I could help you stop having it."

She leaned against the tree and shut her eyes. "It's the same dream I had at your apartment that night. The robber comes back...but this time I can't fight him off...this time, he makes me take off my clothes and he...he...." She stopped and shuddered. Woody pulled her into his arms.

"When do you wake up?"

She hadn't thought about that. She would always get to the same point and then she would jerk herself awake. "Right before he..."

"So you see....you are still fighting him, Jordan. You're still winning. You're not a victim, even in your dream. You wake up before anything happens."

She lowered her head and thought for a minute. "I guess you're right...I've never thought about that before. I just knew I kept having the dream....and I didn't like feeling as if I were a victim all over again."

Woody softly rubbed her back. "You're not," he replied quietly. "Does that help? Does that help you put this dream in perspective?"

Jordan nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah.."

"And I'll bet, after today, eventually you stop having that dream...."

"I hope so. I want it to stop."

He smiled against the top of her head. "It will, Jordan. Feel better?"

She nodded, her head still against his shoulder. "Thanks."

"Jordan, I always want you to feel like you can come to me when you're scared, or worried, or just feel alone. I understand more than you think I do." He gently pulled away from her and lifted her chin so that he could look her in the eyes. "I really do. And I need to tell you why."

She gave him a puzzled look. "What are you talking about, Woody?"

He poured himself and her another glass of wine. They would need this and maybe even the second bottle he still had in the picnic basket. "How much do you know about my past, Jordan?"

"Let's see....just what you told me in the desert when we were in California. You were born and raised in Kewuanne, Wisconsin. You were stood up for the prom. You stuttered a little bit, and your first love was a girl named Annie, whose father thought you weren't good enough to marry his daughter. And you're complicated...or at least you say you are. You told me that one night at the Pogue, a long time ago."

He nodded. "Do you think I'm complicated, Jordan?"

She thought for a minute. "I don't know, Woody. I know more about you since you moved to Boston. You work hard. You're a good friend. You seem naïve, but that's just a cover. You use that to get people to talk to you...you're so unassuming. You're not naïve at all...but complicated? I'm not sure."

"Jordan, have you ever thought there's a reason you don't know anything about my past? Why I haven't shared that with you, the way you've shared your history – from your mother's murder, to Paul, to your dad's leaving – with me?"

That statement struck Jordan hard. No, she hadn't thought of it. She just assumed that Woody had a "Leave it to Beaver" childhood....Mom, Dad, dog, white picket fence....she looked at him closely. His blue eyes were hooded, not telling her anything. "Woody?" she questioned, as much asking him if he was okay as it was for him to clarify his statement.


	6. The Gospel According to Woody

**Chapter Six**

He sighed and settled back against the tree. "Get comfortable, this may take a while," he warned. "I really don't know how to start this, because it's not a happy story. There's no happily ever after up to this point in my life, Jordan. My mother died when I was four. She had leukemia. I don't remember a time when she wasn't sick. She was a good mother, but was ill most of the time. From what I understand, she was diagnosed when she was pregnant with Cal – she had him about 18 months after she had me. I remember her being so sick...I remember her not having hair. She would hold Cal and I in her bed and read to us, or let us nap with her – up until the very end when there were too many tubes and needles to allow us to do that.

"I remember the day she died. I remember her mother was there, and her sisters. So was the priest. It was quiet...more quiet than I remember home being. I can't remember any other place being so still. Dad was in there with her. Then he called Cal and me in to say goodbye. Dad told us to hug and kiss her...we wouldn't be seeing her for a while. I didn't want to. I thought if I didn't hug or kiss her, she wouldn't go away. She'd have to stay. But she was crying, so I did. She told me to be brave, to watch Cal for her, and she would see me again someday. Then Grandma took us out. That was it. That's the last thing I really remember about my mom being alive. I remember the wake and the funeral mass. But that's all.

"My dad, like your dad, was a cop. He worked long hours. While he worked, we stayed with his mom. She made sure Cal and I were fed, washed, did our homework...whatever. But she wasn't Mom. And after raising seven kids, I think she was a little tired of being a mom. It's not that she didn't love us, I'm sure she did in her own way, but I think she really wanted Dad to find someone else and remarry...relieve her of the burden of raising two very active, young boys. But he didn't. So my childhood wasn't the best. I never felt I was really loved or wanted. When Cal and I got older, we stayed by ourselves and I looked after Cal the best way I knew how. I had to grow up super fast and become super responsible all by the age of seven. If things didn't get done, or go just right, Dad would come apart...and take us with him. He'd beat Cal and I if things weren't just perfect. He thought he was instilling a sense of discipline, but all I got out of it was a sense of fear. That's why I stuttered so badly. The fear manifested itself in a speech impediment. To top it off, I was chubby and wore glasses. So I was the picture of the class misfit...the geek...the playground target for the bully. Finally, when I was about fourteen, I figured that the one way I could make my dad proud, and get him off my back, was to tell him I wanted to become a cop, too. So I did. I told him.

"He was so proud. He'd take me down to the station. The other sheriffs took an interest in me. I had just told Dad that to make him feel something toward me other than anger, but to my surprise, I liked the work. I enjoyed talking with the sheriffs. I had a good time hanging out at the station. For the first time since Mom died, Dad and I had something in common. Something to talk about. Something not to fight over. Then, when I was sixteen, it all came to an end. Dad was shot in the back by some eighteen year-old punk. He spent ten agonizing days in the hospital. In the end, he died in my arms.

"The judge said that because my grandparents lived so close by and could supervise me, I could continue to look after Cal and live in the house. So my junior and senior years of high school, I worked and went to school and tried to keep Cal straight. After I graduated, I continued to work until Cal was through with school. I continued to date Annie. When Cal graduated, I went back to school at night, to become a policeman. When I finished the course, Annie's dad hired me as a sheriff. My life was finally looking up. I had a degree, I had the girl, I had the job I wanted.

"I loved her, Jordan. With my whole heart. I wanted to ask her to marry me, settle down, have a house with a backyard and a swing set and five kids to fill it up. But Kewaunne is a small, old-fashioned kind of place. I had to ask Annie's dad for her hand before I asked her to marry me. That's when he told me his daughter was too good to marry a cop. What he really meant, was she was too good to marry me, because she ended up marrying my best friend, who was a sheriff. See, I was an orphan, poor as a church mouse, with no real future in that town – I just didn't have enough to offer his daughter.

"So, as you know, I packed up and ran to Boston. Bought a good suit, got a decent hair cut, and got rid of the stutter. Got a job with the Boston PD. I was determined to put my past so far behind me that no one, _no one_, every got an inkling that anything was ever wrong. I thought if I pretended it had been great, everyone else would assume it was, too. So I just determined not to talk about it at all...if someone asked, only give very vague answers.

"That is, until I met you. You were as complicated as I was, and your past was just as convoluted. Only, you wore it on your sleeve and as a chip on your shoulder. I knew I understood you better than anybody else. I can tell your mood just by the way you walk. I know, because our backgrounds are cut from almost the same cloth. That's why I've waited so long on you, Jo. I know that putting the past behind you takes time. I had gotten to the point where I didn't want anyone to know about me....and what happened, until the burglar broke into your apartment. I saw how it was affecting you. I saw how it was wearing you down...you felt no one understood how if was to be that open and that vulnerable. I did. And I had to let you know. You didn't need to suffer alone."


	7. Good Night Kiss

**Chapter Seven**

Jordan sat speechless, listening to Woody's story, his confession. She didn't know what to say, but she had to see his eyes. He had turned away from her as he was talking. Just as gently as he had done to her, she reached out and took his face in both of her hands, turning it towards her, so she could see those blue eyes.

"I understand why you didn't say anything about your past...about Kewaunne," she began. "But I wish you would have. I wouldn't have brushed you off so much if I would have known.

"I don't know what to say, Woody. I could tell you I'm sorry all that happened to you. And I am. I truly am. But that won't really make it better. It won't bring back your mom or your dad. But it does make you know that I understand. And I do. God, when I think back about how many times I wrote you off as too happy-go-lucky, I could kick my own ass. I was so stupid. It amazes me how you could keep your sunny disposition and not become cynical like me...how you still look for the good in people. You're a much better person than I am.

"And I admire you...to take on the responsibility of your brother at such a young age... no wonder you and Cal are so close. He was lucky to have you. I don't think I could have done it.

"I'm sorry about Annie, and all the hopes and dreams you had with her. Her dad was an idiot. You're a fine man....you have so much more to offer than just material stuff. You're a man, Woody. A real man. You know about loss, you know what it is to work hard for something you want...you have the patience to wait for the right time to reach out and get something.

"But I'm not sorry you had to break up with her and I'm definitely not sorry you ended up in Boston. I would have never met you, otherwise, and there would always be something in my life missing. And that something would be you."

Woody looked into her whiskey-colored eyes. They were being honest. She wasn't just being sympathetic because she felt she had to. She wasn't pitying him. She was being truthful. He leaned his forehead against hers. "I just thought you needed to know," he said, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his back. Now he could really relax around her...be himself. Jordan hugged him close, gently brushing his cheek with her lips. "It's going to be okay, Woody. You're going to be okay."

"I know." The sun was going down and there was a chill in the air. "I'd better get you home before it gets too cold," he said. He felt like he may have said too much. He was afraid that in trying to get her to understand his past, he may have said too much and pushed her away. He was frightened he may have overburdened her.

They got in the car and started back to Jordan's apartment. She scooted over next to him and put her head on his shoulder. _So much of scaring her off,_ he thought, as his right arm went around her to pull her closer.

He walked her up to her apartment door. She was still holding his hand. She hadn't let go of him since his confession. She opened her door and walked through, tugging him in after her. "Stay for a while. Please," she asked.

"Jordan...it's not that I don't want to...it's just that I think we should still take it slowly. I mean, we've covered a lot of ground tonight. Maybe we both need some time to think about how far we've come and where this is going to take us."

"And I think we've wasted enough time." She pulled him the rest of the way inside and shut the door firmly, throwing the deadbolt on at the same time. She slowly walked over to him. "I don't want to waste any more. We've both danced around the issues for three years. I didn't think you understood me. Now I find out that you understand me better than anyone else. I thought you were just patient. That wasn't it. _You knew_. You knew exactly how I felt...with everything. And I have some idea what you've been through. And you may not have felt wanted or loved as a child. But I want you to know now, Woody, that I love you...and I want you...for whatever it's worth. I'm not letting you out of my life. So when I say 'Stay for a while,' I mean it. In the literal sense."

"I don't want your pity, Jordan."

"It's not pity. It's never been pity."

He took a half-step closer to her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I'm sure."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Now what?"

"Well...how about a good night kiss?"

She didn't have to ask twice. Woody pulled her into his arms and sought her lips.

And if all the trite clichés in the world were true, the ground literally moved beneath their feet. All Jordan could think of was making him realize just how much he meant to her...how much she cared. So when he ran his hands down her sides and across her bottom to pull her tighter to him, she simply moaned and molded her body more closely to his.

And he nearly lost it.

Jordan was already lost in the kiss, his touch...but tonight, however much he wanted her, she wanted to let him know beyond any reason just how much she wanted him – loved him. So when he tangled his tongue with hers, she slid her hands up under the t-shirt he was wearing, softly touching him...his chest, his back. Then he did lose it. The kiss became hotter, as he trailed his way down her neck and across her collarbone, all the while his hands kept pulling her closer.

Until her clock chimed the hours. The sound brought Woody to his senses. "Jordan," he whispered.

She opened her eyes to look into his...eyes that were now nearly smoky. She knew her own mirrored the same...the feelings. "Hmm....?" Was all she managed to get out as his hands began to gently rub circles on her back, slowing things down a bit.

"That was some good night kiss."

"I don't want to say good night."

"Jordan, I don't think you really know what you're saying right now. I think we've dealt with a lot of emotions tonight...and need a day or two to sort everything out. I don't want to do anything in the heat of the moment right now that you may regret next week or next month. I don't want you to feel like you have to run again....if things aren't everything you expected."

Jordan swallowed hard. He knew her past too well. Far too frequently, when a man offered her love in every sense of the , she would run. Until now, love wasn't a safe place for her. It was scary. It was unknown. And it seemed it was too easily taken away. "I know. And I want you to feel the same way...love hasn't exactly dealt either of us a fair hand."

Still holding her hand, he walked over to her door and unlocked it. "Good night, Jordan. I'll see you tomorrow. Lock the door behind me." And with a quick kiss, he was gone.


	8. Shatterproof future

**Chapter Eight**

The next week passed quickly for Jordan. The morgue had been busy...and then the generator broke down again...leaving them scrambling for dry ice and a repairman. With only Jordan, Nigel, and Bug, everyone was maxed out. Jordan easily could have worked 24/7 and not made a dent in the back log. And forget the paperwork. Even Garret said leave it alone...they'd get to it. He got no argument from Jordan.

So she and Woody had been left to play phone tag for most of the week. He'd call her cell phone and leave a message while she was in autopsy. She'd call him back. There was little time to talk....and less time to see each other, even when she'd got his homicide calls. Luckily, the nightmare that had plagued her in the past was gone...she hadn't had it again since she had talked to Woody. Instead, a longing of a very different kind kept invading her dreams....

Garret announced to the staff that he had hired a new guy, Sydney. He should be up to speed soon and relief was in sight. Jordan sighed a long, weary sigh. She was tired. More tired than she would admit...and so was Nigel and Bug.

So on her day off, she slept in. For a long time. Without embarrassment. She didn't get up until after lunch and had no plans until time to go into the Pogue. She hadn't had free time in so long...She took a bubble bath and did her nails, all the while her mind kept slipping back to Woody. She hadn't seen him in a couple of days. The times they did catch each other on the phone, there was an understated warmth and concern. The few times they had seen each other, Jordan had anxiously tried to assess him...to see if digging up the demons of the past affected him like they did her. Apparently not. Things seemed the same as always. Except they weren't. Jordan went out of her way to make sure he was okay.

She wanted him to know how much she cared...and how much she was worried about him. She wanted him to know that she understood him, and what she felt wasn't pity.

Hell, she wanted him to know she loved him.

She had known it before...just was scared to admit it. She had always worried that someone with Woody's temperament would have problems with someone like her down the road. She had always assumed that his life had been all sunshine and roses and hers had been not only dysfunctional, but highly abnormal. But her assumption had been wrong. Woody's past was about as dark as hers...and in some ways darker. Finally putting any hesitation aside, she dressed in one of her best outfits and headed to his office. She knocked on the door, but he wasn't in. She went over to the window and gazed out at the city, lost in her thoughts. So lost, she didn't hear him come up behind her and slide his arm around her waist, pulling her snugly against him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Just dropped by to see how you're doing...hadn't seen you in a couple of days."

"Yeah. Heard things were crazy at the morgue. Bug said you finally got some relief."

She nodded, not moving out of his arms. This is where she wanted to be, anyway. She leaned her head back against his shoulder. "I hope so...Garret was working us all to death....including himself."

Woody slid his arm out from around her waist, but turned her to face him. "So on your day off, you decide to come _back_ to work to check on me?"

She chuckled. "I was worried. I didn't know what digging up the past would do to you...if it would affect you the same way it does me. And by the way...I haven't had that dream again since we talked."

"Good. I didn't think you would." He was glad the intruder had been banished completely from her life. Now she could go on without fear...make decisions. "What are you doing later?" he asked, toying with a strand of her hair.

"Nothing ...until time to go into the Pogue."

"Dinner at my place?"

"You cooking?"

Woody chuckled. "Hell, no. Chinese or pizza. We'll order in."

"What time do you want me there?"

"How's six?"

* * *

At six o'clock, Jordan was ringing Woody's doorbell. She had changed into "bar" clothes before she came over...jeans and a shirt. She was somewhat relieved that when Woody answered the door, he had also changed out of his suit and into jeans and a t-shirt. "I ordered Chinese....hope that's okay?"

"It's great." She came in and put her pocketbook on the counter.

"Beer?" he asked.

"Please." He handed her Guinness and began to get down plates. She found the forks and napkins. Before long, they were enjoying a meal together, talking about her week, his cases, the BoSox. Afterwards, they began to clean up. "When do you have to go to the Pogue?" he asked.

"About nine. I have to close." She came up behind him and put her arms around him. He threw his dishtowel in the sink and turned around, taking her in his.

"So this is what we're about now?" he asked. For a minute she thought he was teasing, but the look in his blue eyes was serious.

"I meant what I said the other night, Woody. I'm glad you're here...in Boston. Not married to Annie. I'm sorry about everything...that seems so inadequate...I know. I wish I could go back and change things for you."

"I know, sweetheart. I do for you, too. But it's not possible. The only thing you can do is make the most of what you have now." He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead.

"Is that what we're doing?"

"I think so." He held her close for a minute. "TV...want to watch a movie before you have to go?"

A movie was the last thing on Jordan's mind, but she was determined to let him set the pace...let him tell her what he was ready for. And when. She nodded and went and sat down on the couch. He flicked through the channels until he found a program they both liked and pulled her across his lap. She was trying to ignore his nearness...the scent of his cologne, but it was difficult...letting him be in charge. She had pretty much always taken charge of these situations, or at least sent out enough signals that the man always knew what she wanted.

But this was different. Woody's comfort and needs were more important than her own were. If he wanted to go slowly, then so be it. She settled back on the couch and in his arms until it was time for her to leave.

He had simply held her for the couple of hours she had been there – held her across his lap, sometimes softly kissing the side of her head or rubbing her back. Finally, about nine, she whispered in his ear, "I have to go, Woody. I have to go to work."

"Do you have to?"

She chuckled. He sounded like a child...begging to get his own way. "Yeah. They're depending on me." She started to swing her legs off him, when he stopped her.

"Do I get another good night kiss?"

"Do you want one?"

"Yeah...I don't know about you, but I can't get the one from the other night out of my head."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Me, either."

Woody chuckled, glanced at her eyes, and claimed her lips. Jordan felt her world tilt again. For long, breathless moments, he kissed her. She did manage to get her arms around him and run her fingers through his hair. After several minutes, she tried to pull away. "I've got to go, Woody...work."

He kissed her one more time and helped her stand. Her knees were still weak... "Be careful, okay Jo?"

"I will."

"Ummm, Jordan?"

"What Woody?" she asked as she turned from the door to look at him. He simply pointed to his shirt, about midway on the front. She gave him a puzzled look at first, then looked down at her own blouse. He had unbuttoned it nearly all the way down, and she had been too caught up in his kisses to notice. She had the grace to turn slightly pink and then re-buttoned her top. "You've been a bad boy," she teased.

"Not as bad as I wanted to be...."

"Uh-huh...Good night, Woody." She smirked at him and shut the door.

* * *

Hours later, she let herself back in her apartment. It had been a busy night at the bar...busier than normal for a Friday night. But it was over. It was midnight. Wearily she pulled off her clothes, took a quick shower to get rid of the cigarette smoke smell in her hair, and pulled on her robe. She was combing out her hair when there was a knock at the door. _Who in the world?_ She wondered, looking out her peep hole.

It was Woody. She opened the door and let him in. "Is anything wrong?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he replied.

"Then what?"

"Ummm....I need another good night kiss. I can't sleep."

"Woody!"

"Is that a yes?"

He looked so anxious Jordan had to laugh at him. "You think that's funny?" he asked.

"No...I mean yes...Yes you can have another kiss...and yes, I do think it's funny. Most men don't ask...they just do it."

He moved over to her and pulled her into his arms. "Well, I'm not most men." And then again, he kissed her, tangling their tongues, his fingers in her hair. She held onto his shoulders to keep standing. Each time he kissed her, it was an all out assault on her senses. Her world would spin quickly out of her control. It was all she could do to hang on.

Woody drew in a sharp breath when he realized that the robe was all she had on. He hadn't counted on that. He honestly thought he was coming over for a good night kiss...that was all. But now...no. No, he couldn't until they had talked. "Jordan?" he said.

"Nuh-uh," she managed to get out. "Every time you say that when we're kissing, you end up stopping. Just wait until afterwards, okay?"

"No. I need to know something."

She was willing to tell him anything as long as he held her and didn't leave her again. "What?"

"The other night, at the park...you said you loved me. Was that said just in the heat of the moment, or do you really love me?"

Jordan pulled away from him, to look him in the eyes. This was it. She had to make him see that yes, she did. After years of denying it, trying to avoid it, she couldn't. And didn't want to. He had to know she loved him. "Yes, Woody, she said softly. "I do."

"And you're not afraid of that anymore?"

Jordan swallowed hard, reached up and cradled his head with both of her hands. "No. I'm not. Not as long as it's with you."

"You're sure?"

"Yes.."

"Good." He swung her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?"

"Making the most of what we have right now, Jordan. Both of our pasts may have been filled with tragic events that were far beyond our control. But not now. Not this minute. Right now, I have you...and you have me. We love each other. Our future looks pretty damn bright, even if everything in the past was shattered...peace of mind, dreams, hopes....all of that may have been crushed under the feet of circumstances."

He deposited her on her bed and sat down beside her. "So what do you say? About making the most of what we have right now, sweetheart?"

He only had to ask her once. She reached out for him and pulled him to her. Kissing him, she said, "It sounds wonderful...as long as we can start right now. No more analyzing the past, just dealing with now and the future."

He chuckled. It was time to sweep both of their shattered pasts under the rug, better yet out the door. While the past events would always be remembered, for they involved people they both loved very much, their future looked better -- one that would stay whole, and not shatter.


End file.
